Film Flammers

Monday, August 25, 2014

My
husband rarely watches my 1001 Movies flicks with me. He’s not a movie buff the way I am, and I
would never want to force him to watch, say, an intense Swedish film – like
Bergman – unless, for some reason, he really wanted to. Which normally, he doesn’t. But he wound up watching Babel with me, almost on
accident, in that he was playing a video game in the same room and wound up
getting pulled into the film, watching the last hour with the video game on
pause. Do not let this be a comment on Babel
amazing quality, however, as when it was over, we turned to look at one another
and vocalized our almost identical reactions.

“That
could have been so much better.”

Waving
the ride of the concept of telling multiple interconnected stories, Babel’s
interconnected stories are in Morocco, California and Mexico, and Tokyo. An American couple (Blanchett and Pitt) are
vacationing in Morocco when the wife is accidentally shot on their tour
bus. The shooter is a young Moroccan boy
out tending goats with his older brother; the two were simply monkeying around
with the new rifle their father bought for killing jackals. While the young boys panic and try to hide
what they did, the husband of the stricken wife desperately searches for
medical attention in the remote farmland of a country whose language and custom
he does not know. Meanwhile, back in
California, the children of the American couple are taken to Mexico by their
live-in nanny Amelia (Barraza) because her son is getting married and she can
find no one to look after them. While
things are fine initially, problems eventually arise. And finally, in Japan, a teenage deaf-mute
Chieko (Kikuchi) is frustrated enough at the world for not understanding her
condition; her distant father and dead mother don’t make things any
easier. Chieko starts acting out in
possibly dangerous ways as we begin to understand just how angry and hurt she
really is.

The
reason I said above that this could have been so much better is because the
central themes of Babel are good ones, solid ones, even necessary ones. The very idea that we live in an age of
international connectivity is one that is vital to moving forward, and yet this
remains an idea that many people, cultures, and countries eschew. The issues Babel raises around this
theme, that of language barriers and lack of communication, are equally
profound. We are all connected to one
another, and we must embrace this as the world becomes smaller and smaller, but
we have a great deal of barriers in our way that prevent us from truly embracing
the similarities we all have. This idea
is important. Babel deals with
important and significant cultural debates.

It
just doesn’t delve into these questions nearly as well as it thinks it does.

Three
of the four central tales in Babel are all clearly linked to one
another. The American woman is shot by
kids in Morocco while the woman’s own children attend their nanny’s son’s
wedding in Mexico back home. Yes, three
stories, all with a very clear thread of connectivity. Then there’s the Tokyo story. Yes, there is a link between Chieko’s tale
and what’s happening with the other characters, but it’s flimsy at best and
feels like a big stretch, as if the writers came up with this great Tokyo
plotline but had to find a way to shoehorn it in to the other threads. Right away, this takes away from Babel’s
strength as a film, as there seems to be an oddball tale awkwardly fitted in
between the other, related plotlines. Which
is really a shame, because for my money, the Tokyo plotline was easily the most
interesting part of the film. Granted,
the type of story and characters in this chapter make me predisposed to liking
it more – few, introspective characters, internal turmoil, drama and angst, as
opposed to the distinct action/adventure/thriller aspect of the other three
tales – but even my husband admitted to finding the Tokyo story (a phrase I
cannot type without thinking Ozu) the most compelling, and he’s definitely an
action/adventure/thrilling kind of guy.
Honestly, I wish it had been its own film; Kikuchi’s Chieko is devastatingly
honest and a frightening pillar of uncontrolled strength and emotion. When she is not commanding the screen, the
film lags, as if Babel itself wishes it could have spent more time with Chieko.

Although
for my money, Kikuchi is the best of the bunch, the performances in Babel
are all stellar and were probably the biggest strength of the film. Naturally, Cate Blanchett is amazing, but
that’s rather a given. It’s easy to
understand why Adriana Bazzara earned a Best Supporting Actress Oscar
nomination, but it’s Brad Pitt and the nonprofessional Moroccan actors who
really manage to buoy the entire film.
Pitt is an actor easy to underestimate; his non-stop tabloid presence
and impossible good looks can work against him.
But here, he is very good, very strong as a man who finds himself
entirely out of his league and facing a life and death situation. Right alongside him, the actors portraying
the Moroccan family torn asunder by a rifle do a tremendous job. The two young boys underplay most of their
scenes, a fact that works best with child actors, and the Moroccan father
believably carries the role of emotional heavy in what is a gut-wrenching
tale. Innaritu must be commended for
coaxing such strong performances from every single member of such a varied
cast.

*********************************SPOILERS
FOR THE ENDING************************************

But
ultimately, I have a bit of a problem with the overall message of the film, and
this is why I say it could have been such a better movie. When considering the ending of all four
stories, I have to ponder what exactly Innaritu managed to say. Think: the Moroccan family is completely torn
apart, facing jail and possibly the death of one of its own. Their lives will never be the same
again. The Mexican maid is ungraciously
deported, forced to leave behind her entire life and not allowed even a
suitcase of her belongings. Chieko’s
emotional future is anything but certain as she pushed herself to dangerous
places. Three of the four stories have
distinctly downer endings.

But
what happens to the white people? Oh, no
worries, everyone survives and gets back home in one piece. Really, is that the message we’re going with? Everyone’s interconnected in this world of
ours, and bad stuff happens all over the place, but if you’re American,
everything will be fine? Is this some
sort of subtle commentary on white privilege by Innaritu? Although you may disagree with me on this
one, I don’t think it is. Rather, I feel
like the writers felt the need to have one story end happily and they picked
the white Americans one. I really wish
they hadn’t. It would have felt so much
stronger to have one of the stories involving a different culture, a different
set of people, end well and to have something sad happen to the Americans. But no, Babel is fundamentally an American
film, marketed and shown to American audiences, and we can’t have our American
audiences having their delicate sensibilities upset. So we’ll force all the tragedy onto the
people of color and ensure that our own get through unscathed. This wrapping up of the plotlines undercuts
the international message of the film, and thus much of the power of Babel. Again, this could have been better.

Edit
to add: After a bit of time away from this, perhaps the above is the point?
Perhaps Innaritu is actually brilliantly calling out white privilege by having
that plot line be the only one that has anywhere near a happy resolution.
Actually, I don’t believe that is the case, I don’t feel this movie is quite
that… clever, but I admit it’s a possibility.

***************************************DONE
WITH THAT THEN*******************************

Babel smacks too much of a film
specifically designed to make you feel like crap. The stories continually scream at you to “BE
SAD!!” And if that isn’t enough, all the
ancillary filmmaking techniques, such as score and cinematography, belabor the
point, yelling at you to “BE SADDER!!!!!!!!”
While a perfectly acceptable film in that there isn’t anything too
egregiously wrong with it, I was left a touch underwhelmed. This is disappointing, as the issues Babel
raises are interesting ones. Again, I
reiterate that the biggest message I got from it was wishing that Chieko’s
plotline had been developed into a standalone film, as I would rather have
watched that.

Thursday, August 14, 2014

While
I make it no secret that MGM musicals were the movies of my youth, they were,
for the most part, the only classic Hollywood movies I saw. When I first went
through the pages of 1001 Movies, making note of which films I had
already seen, I was truly shocked to realize just how few classic films I had
already seen. But one of the few classic
films I had already seen prior to embarking on my cinematic journey was The
Philadelphia Story. My parents introduced me to this one at a young age,
and frankly, it only gets better as I get older.

Tracy
Lord (Hepburn) is a New England wealthy socialite about to embark on her second
marriage to the bland and blustery George. Naturally, there is no better time
for her first husband, C.K. Dexter Haven (Grant), to make an appearance at the
family compound. Turns out, though, that Dex has good reason to turn up, as he
is actually trying to head off at the pass a sniveling paparazzi journalist who
wants to unearth some sordid family secrets about the Lord clan. Reporter ‘Mike’
Macauley Conner (Stewart) and photographer Liz Imbrie (Ruth Hussey) are
strong-armed into covering the wedding against their wishes. Things get complicated as all these people
around her turn Tracy’s normal, even-keeled emotional life on its head.

How
on earth am I supposed to talk about the verbal perfection that is the dialogue
and its delivery in this movie? How unbelievably quotable is every other line
that comes out of someone’s mouth? It’s clear that this was a stage play first
because of the sheer import that is placed on the specific phrasing of the
lines, along with how much they are allowed to shine. This is not a film that
shines due to fancy camerawork or flashy special effects, or even on a genius
conceit. No, it’s the dialogue that is pitch perfect and painfully brilliant.
When you aren’t howling with laughter over Dinah’s pronunciation of “innuendo”
or snorting over Mike crank calling as the Voice of Doom, you’re feeling Tracy
start to come across at the seams as she hears again and again language of
statues and goddesses and ice queens. In my opinion, The Philadelphia Story is
easily one of the most quotable films of all time.

When
I was younger, it was the broad comedy, found mostly in the dialogue, which I
loved in The Philadelphia Story, and it was why I liked the film. But as
I got older and I inevitably kept revisiting the movie, I slowly began to
understand something more. I really, truly enjoy watching Tracy’s journey from
well-meaning but somewhat blind and insulated pride to a more open, more
understanding, and definitely happier woman. I didn’t understand Tracy’s story
when I was a child; it’s a subtler journey than one typically sees in film, as
it’s not as simplistic as “she starts evil and is shown the error of her ways.”
No, she somehow manages to start the heroine and end the heroine. But that’s
precisely why I like it so much, why I like HER so much.

I
identify with Tracy Lord, which maybe isn’t entirely a good thing to admit. But
I do. I like her strength throughout the entire film. She starts out as strong
but stubborn, and she ends strong as well. I think it takes a lot of guts for
her to confront her faults and try to come to terms with them, to admit that
she might be making a mistake for marrying someone like George, and for admitting
that she has things to learn. She makes mistakes throughout the film, gets
sloppily drunk, and generally throws everything into disarray. She isn’t
perfect. And you know what? I love that. It’s refreshing. Hers is the sort of
character I haven’t seen out of Hollywood in quite some time. Hepburn pulls off
the role with aplomb, and it’s easy to see why this is the film that convinced
the American public at large to forgive her for… whatever it was they had
accused her of. I love the remake of The Philadelphia Story, but damn, it’s
hard to one-up how perfectly Hepburn pulls off Tracy Lord.

But
the character of Tracy Lord and Hepburn’s performance would not be nearly as
interesting if she weren’t surrounded by two equally wonderful roles performed
by two equally amazing actors, Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart. Dexter and
Macauley represent choices Tracy can make as she approaches her wedding.
Watching Macauley set her free throughout their drunken revels is brilliant.
While I would be hard-pressed to call this Jimmy Stewart’s most impressive film
performance (it is the only one for which he won an Oscar), it is certainly a
fine performance and it is easy to see why the Academy saw fit to recognize it.
He is not simply the drunken fool, but full of heart as well, and not afraid to
call shenanigans when he sees them. But really, Cary Grant’s Dexter just ties
everything together. I absolutely adore Cary Grant, but I do feel like he tends
to play different aspects of his celebrity persona in most of his films. His
C.K. Dexter Haven, though, is reserved and hard in a way that one doesn’t
expect from Cary Grant. He is unsettlingly stoic. And yet Grant has to convince
us that Dexter really loves Tracy, that he never stopped loving her despite
divorcing her, and that he loves her while being unafraid to speak the truth to
her. Convince us he does, through
several sometimes small, sometimes not so small gestures throughout the movie.
How he hides the bracelet, how he hits Macauley first, how he stays out of her
way when she asks him to at the party, how he doesn’t judge her too harshly,
how he is all too willing to save Tracy’s family from incendiary press, and
finally, how he tries to help her save face at her botched wedding. Grant doesn’t try to make Dexter perfect, but
he does make him perfect for Tracy. He is wonderful in this role, and I easily
think it’s one of his best.

Lovely
dialogue, well-formed and interesting adult characters, actors who fully
inhabit their roles, and a rollicking comedy with a happy ending. Really, it
shouldn’t take anyone by surprise that I have loved this movie ever since I saw
it and I will continue to love it for the rest of my life.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

I
just plain don’t get, or like, experimental films. Whenever I see that tag of “avant-garde” on a
flick, I tense up. Oh dear lord, what
will this one do to me now? But 1001
Movies always has a lesson or two to teach me about never discounting an
entire genre of films. There are always
exceptions to the rules, and I can’t help but enjoy Hold Me While I’m Naked. Well, as much as I could enjoy an
experimental film.

The
scant plot of this scant film (it clocks in at 15 minutes) is of a director
(Kuchar) trying to make a movie. One of
his lead actresses pulls out halfway through the shoot (Kerness) so he has to
find a replacement. Meanwhile, off
screen, we see said actress having sexy fun times with a significant other
while our poor director leads a rather solitary, lonely life.

And
that’s it. I mean, at 15 minutes, it’s
barely there. But I’ve seen films where
15 minutes can feel like a chore, and it doesn’t here. In fact, I’d even go so far to say I wouldn’t
mind this particular film being a bit longer.
Wow, did I really just say that?

Why
is this so much more amusing than a typical sixties experimental film? Simple: George Kuchar. As both director and star, this film is
clearly HIS, and it’s evident from the opening that Kuchar has a huge sense of
humor. His voiceover as he coaches his
actress through her scenes makes me smile.
And his dialogue as he’s shooting a love scene later just slays me with
its bizarre juxtapositions: “Tomorrow we do the massage table scene and maybe
we’ll do the scene where you’re found naked in a fallout shelter and there are
those radioactive welts on your thigh.”
Wait… WHAT? Radioactive
welts? Fallout shelter? From a love scene? I honestly can’t help but laugh at that sort
of ridiculous swing in imagery. The circus-esque
music in the opening credits sets the stage for such an approach.

Kuchar
also makes me laugh later in the film when we continually cut back and forth
between couples having sexy times in a shower and him, Kuchar, taking a shower
alone, by himself, and banging his head against the wall. It’s a bit sad, and there’s definitely a
poignancy there about a man sacrificing everything for his “art” even though
the art is a bit crap. It’s rather
reminiscent of Ed Wood, really. And yet,
despite the pathetic nature, it’s also funny.
Going back and forth between two people obvious each enjoying their time
together to Kuchar banally taking off his socks and stepping in his tiny
shower… really, it’s funny. At least to
me.

I
first saw Hold Me While I’m Naked at the Dryden when they did an evening
of screening art house/experimental shorts from the sixties and seventies, and
this was before I could see these shorts on youtube or anyplace else. This was my only chance to see these films. There were several Andy Warhol films on the
docket that evening, and Blonde Cobra was shown as well. Hold Me While I’m Naked was shown by
Kuchar, as was his later short from the seventies, I, An Actress. I am sure that this is why I’m rather keen on
Hold
Me While I’m Naked – because when you spend an evening watching Blonde
Cobra and Andy Warhol, and then you watch something by George Kuchar,
you leap all over that last stuff.
Kuchar’s sense of play, optimism, and humor, really shines through
amongst all the ridiculous posturing of the other shorts. And I think I, An Actress makes a
great companion piece to Hold Me While I’m Naked. It’s even shorter (9 minutes) but again we
have Kuchar playing a director making a movie.
Instead, though, in I, An Actress, the entire short is
Kuchar coaching his lead actress through a scene, and it’s hysterical as he
grows even more over the top in his delivery of her lines (even the actress
can’t keep a straight face). This wacko
crazy approach to film works well for me, at least when you contrast it with
the other experimental shorts of the time that drive me absolutely
bonkers.

Hold
Me While I’m Naked
may not make much sense, but at least it laughs at itself. At least it will make you laugh. George Kuchar seemed like a really fun guy,
and he clearly loved film. Honestly, I’m
glad this selection is in 1001 Movies.
It’s a diverting, campy little 15 minutes of your life.

Saturday, June 7, 2014

The
Wizard of Oz
is what I call an “exception” movie.
People who don’t like musicals tend to like The Wizard of Oz, despite
the fact that it’s a musical. People who
say they don’t like old movies tend to like The Wizard of Oz, despite
the fact that it’s 75 years old. It’s a
film that has transcended its origins and become a part of the national film
lexicon. Everyone and their dog knows,
and most likely loves, The Wizard of Oz.

The
story revolves around Kansas farm girl Dorothy (Garland) who is dissatisfied
with her simple life and longs for more.
When a tornado picks up Dorothy’s house with Dorothy inside it and drops
her in the magical land of Oz, it seems like Dorothy’s wish has come true, but
she is quick to realize that you need to be careful what you wish for. Dorothy soon wishes that she can return home
to her family and friends in Kansas, and enlists the aid of the Scarecrow
(Bolger), the Tin Man (Lahr), the Cowardly Lion (Lahr), and the Wizard himself
(Morgan) to battle the evil Wicked Witch of the West (Hamilton) so she can find
her way back home. After all, there’s no
place like home.

Now
here’s where I make a pretty darn big confession: I am not in love with The
Wizard of Oz. And more than that,
I never have been. (Did I just quote
Gilbert and Sullivan? Yes I did. Bonus points to those who can tell me which
operetta I just referenced.)

Let
me explain a bit more: I do not think The Wizard of Oz is a bad or
inferior film. I think it’s great that
so many people know and adore this film.
It just never found its way into my heart the same way it apparently has
with the rest of the Western Hemisphere.
And before y’all go screaming at me about having ice in my heart for not
being enamored of this film, try to give me a chance to explain. And stop judging, because that’s not very
nice.

I
have a theory why this isn’t a personal favorite of mine, and it has a lot to
do with my disposition as a young Siobhan.
Like pretty much everyone else, this movie was screened quite a bit when
I was a child. I remember watching it
over and over and over again.

A
significant fact you must know about me: young Siobhan was a sissy.

I
hated scary books, scary cartoons, and scary movies. I remember going to a sleepover in elementary
school where one of the other girls was hell bent on us watching A
Nightmare on Elm Street and I practically had a panic attack from the very
THOUGHT of us watching a horror movie. I
watched Star Wars: A New Hope for the first time when I was six, and
the trash compactor scene terrified me so deeply, I pointedly refused to watch Star
Wars again for another eight years.

And
I think the reason I don’t love The Wizard of Oz is because it
scared me too much as a kid, but my family kept on watching it anyway and I
couldn’t tell anyone.

So,
what parts of The Wizard of Oz traumatized me?

Let’s
start at the beginning, shall we?

1. Miss
Gulch trying to take Toto away from Dorothy.
I’ve always had an affinity to animals, even as a youngster, and to
watch Dorothy as her beloved pet is forcibly removed from her hands broke my
heart. I didn’t like that, no I didn’t
like that one bit.

2. Dorothy
being locked out of the storm shed. As I
mentioned early on, I’ve seen this film many many times, but I still got
anxious every single time the tornado comes.
It’s as if I thought that hoping Dorothy would reach safety would
somehow change the plot of the film. Just
one time, just ONE time, I’d love it for Dorothy to not be stuck outside in a
natural disaster.

3. The
first arrival of the Wicked Witch of the West.
SHE APPEARS FROM NOWHERE IN A PUFF OF ORANGE SMOKE. AND THEN SHE IMMEDIATELY TRIES TO KILL
DOROTHY. The Wicked Witch of the West
wholeheartedly deserves her spot as one of the greatest villains of all time
because she basically scared the crap out of me as a child, and she is so very
frightening from the very beginning on.

4. The
moving trees that throw apples at Dorothy when she meets the Tin Man. It’s how they stand stock still and then
start mercilessly beating on Dorothy and the Scarecrow. I mean honestly, this is the stuff of my
nightmares.

5. When
the Wicked Witch of the West throws fire balls at the Scarecrow. HE’S MADE OF STRAW. SHE’S TRYING TO KILL HIM. Do you know how horrible it is for a six year
old to imagine a beloved character burning to death? Because that’s what went through my head in
that scene.

6. The
scary forest when we meet the Cowardly Lion for the first time. The set designers did their job when they
made this incredibly creepy forest, and every single time Dorothy entered this
place, I wanted to look away.

7. The
poppies. The goddamned poppies. The Wicked Witch drugs our gang to try to
stop them. What’s truly frightening in
this scene is how she manages to do this from far away in her castle, nowhere
near the Emerald City. She’s incredibly
powerful and insidious in her methods.

8. “Surrender
Dorothy.” Because nothing says
frightening like death threats in the sky.

9. Approaching the Wizard of Oz
for the first time. THERE ARE FIREBALLS
AND A GIGANTIC DISEMBODIED HEAD WHO YELLS AT EVERYONE. THIS IS NOT SOMETHING THAT MADE ME HAPPY AS A
CHILD. Y’know the Cowardly Lion in this
scene? Yeah, that was me.

10. The forest surrounding the
Wicked Witch of the West’s castle.
Again, I think I hate the set designers of this film.

12. The hourglass with red sand
ticking away the remaining moments of Dorothy’s life when she’s trapped in the
Wicked Witch’s castle. Having that kind
of time limit put on her life made me so anxiety-ridden as a child.

13. When the Lion, the Tin Man, and
the Scarecrow go undercover as the guards to break into the Witch’s
Castle. The music (which is heavily
pulled from Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain, a genuinely frightening
classical music composition), the costumes, the dark lighting and dangerous
set, all made this a big pile of “NOPE” to me.

14. The death of the Wicked
Witch. You’d think that by this point in
the picture, I’d be overjoyed to watch the villain die. Nope, not scaredy cat little Siobhan, oh no. I found her death traumatizing, watching her
shrivel and burn away as if she is being corroded by acid.

Yep. This movie basically scared the pants off of
me as a kid. And I had to watch it over
and over and OVER again. So you’ll
pardon me if it’s not a personal favorite.

Now,
having made that rather exhaustive list, you can perhaps understand why this
film, frankly, filled me with terror as a young child and why I never quite
managed to fall in love with it. And
while the things on that list don’t really scare me anymore, I had to watch
this movie SO many times as a child and I didn’t have the nerve to tell my
parents that it scared me so heartily that I made myself sit through this
frightfulness too many times to ever develop an emotional affinity for the film.

I
told you I was a sissy when I was a kid.
Seriously, you don’t understand just how much everything scared me.

Which
isn’t to say there weren’t parts of this film that I enjoyed. The stand out setpieces are easily the
Munchkinland sequence and the arrival the Emerald City. These two scenes are still my favorite parts
of The
Wizard of Oz, and I DO love them, very much. Both are happy parts of the film, which meant
I wasn’t cowering behind my hands as a youngster. Both are towering examples of brilliant uses
of Technicolor to achieve a fantasy look.
The colors are rich and luxurious, and both scenes are filled with a
multitude of interesting side characters.
I love the costuming and set design of both of these lands. It’s the rotund, Seussian, illustration-feel
of Munchkinland, and the sleek art deco design of the Emerald City, all
sophistication and smooth lines, that I really love. Add on top of that two fantastic songs that
leave you humming the tunes for the rest of the day and yeah, for sure, these
are my two favorite parts of the film.

The
Wizard of Oz
will always be considered a great film, and rightfully so. It’s a visual achievement with a heartwarming
message, full of indelible characters and charming songs. But it’s not my favorite. It’s basically the first horror film I ever
saw, and because I was terrible at communicating my fear as a child, I was
forced to watch it time and time and time again. No, it doesn’t scare me anymore, but it’s
really too late to reverse the damage. I
appreciate The Wizard of Oz and I can appreciate its stature in the film
world, but it will never be a personal favorite.

Arbitrary
Rating: 8/10. Again, I think this is a
legitimately good film, full of so many iconic film moments. But… JESUS it scared me as a kid.

ETA:
I will always remember Margaret Hamilton going on Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood
and getting dressed in the Wicked Witch costume in order to show young children
that the Wicked Witch was just a character and not a real monster.

Additional ETA: and yes, I've seen Return to Oz. And I rather like it, even as a kid, despite the fact that it's exponentially creepier than this film. The difference was that everyone around me acknowledged that Return to Oz was a scary film and didn't make me watch it unless I wanted to. I couldn't vocalize my fear of Wizard, so my parents just kept... putting it on.

Sunday, June 1, 2014

I
make no secret of my love of musicals.
MGM musicals of the forties and fifties are like crack to me. They will
always be there for me. They will always
make me happy. I can watch them a
hundred times (and I have) and they won’t get old.

So
I thought writing about some of my favorite non-list musicals might not be a
bad idea.

I
know that I alienated nearly all of my regular readers with the preceding
paragraphs, but, well, I’ve had a really rough year and MGM musicals make me
happy. Consider yourself warned.

Jane
Falbury (Garland) is the beleaguered Falbury sister who is stuck running the
family farm while younger sister Abigail runs around chasing her dreams of
being on the stage. When Abigail, on a
whim, brings an entire Off-Broadway show to the Falbury Farm with the idea of
putting on the show on Jane’s premises, Jane balks at first, but Abigail’s
boyfriend and show director Joe Ross (Kelly) convince her to allow the show biz
folks to stay by providing Jane with necessary cheap farm labor in between
rehearsals. Sparks fly between Jane and
Joe, but Jane’s fiancé Orville (Bracken) and the fact that Joe is somewhat
engaged to Jane’s sister are pretty big barriers. When Jane shows a hidden predilection for the
stage, though, nothing can get in the way of true love.

The
plot of Summer Stock is not why one watches Summer Stock. It’s simplistic at best and requires more
than a little suspension of disbelief.
It’s one of the ultimate “let’s put on a show” musicals, a gag that was
getting whiskers even in 1950.

But
Gene Kelly. And Judy Garland. Falling hopelessly in love with each
other. While singing and dancing.

Of
all the gags in musicals, the “let’s put on a show” bit is not my favorite –
even *I* admit it’s a bit silly – but… Gene Kelly is SO pretty. Were it not for him (and Judy), I would
undoubtedly not be speaking so fondly of Summer Stock. For those keeping a record, he (along with
Cary Grant) are in my Holy Trinity of Sexiest Classic Hollywood Actors. My feelings for Gene Kelly run deep, and
looking back at my childhood, I’m pretty sure he’s the first adult actor (by
that I mean not a teen heartthrob) that I had a crush on. My tag for him on tumblr is “eternal crush on
Gene Kelly” because in the twenty-plus years I’ve been watching Gene Kelly
movies, I have never not been in love with him.

And
my goodness, if you love Gene Kelly, you NEED to put this movie in your
eyeballs as soon as possible.

Reasons
why Gene Kelly was never sexier than as Joe Ross in Summer Stock:

1. Quite
literally, he spends the ENTIRE movie with either rolled up shirt sleeves or
super tight short sleeves that show off his ridiculously sexy arms the ENTIRE
TIME.I wish men realized just how sexy
rolled up shirt sleeves are.Every time
my husband comes home with rolled up shirt sleeves because it was hot at work,
I want to jump his bones.Men, listen
up: no matter your body type, ROLLED UP SHIRT SLEEVES.It works.It’s a godsend.And in this
movie, ladies (and some gents, I’m sure), you get your fill of Gene in tight
rolled up shirt sleeves.Unnnnnnnnnf…

2. Jeans. He wears JEANS. JEANS.
ROLLED UP JEANS WITH LOAFERS. Gene
Kelly was certainly known for being a bit more down-and-dirty than his cohort
Fred Astaire, but still, he rarely wore jeans.
HE DOES HERE. And if you don’t
understand why I find that so ridiculously attractive, then I’m sorry, I can’t
explain it to you. BECAUSE JEANS. ON GENE KELLY. KILL ME NOW.

3. He does quite a lot of
macking.For the first half of the film,
when his character is still pretty devoted to Abigail, every time they are in
the same room, they greet one another by making out for as long as the Hays
Code would allow.And in the second half
of the film, he finally gets to start macking on Judy Garland.There is a LOT of kissing Gene Kelly in this
flick.GOD BLESS.

4. Joe
Ross is quite possibly the sweetest character Kelly ever played. In most of his musicals, Kelly’s character
usually has some slightly dark or even misogynistic streak. In both On the Town and Anchors Aweigh, for
example, he plays a sailor intent on getting as much booty as he possibly can
until the right girl wins his heart.
Even in Singin’ in the Rain, his character is called out for being
egotistical at the beginning of the film.
In nearly all the other films I’ve seen of his, Kelly’s character is one
who starts out as brash/arrogant/egotistical until he meets The One Girl who
wins his heart and changes his ways. But
not so in Summer Stock. As Joe
Ross, he starts as so ridiculously, endearingly honest and kind and caring that
we know from the get go that silly, materialistic Abigail is NOT right for him,
that only honest, kind, and caring Jane will do. He’s so winning from the get go, he’s
practically the epitome of Prince Charming.
Joe Ross, as a character, is basically a female wet dream written into
one person. He tells Jane that he won’t
marry her sister unless he can guarantee their financial stability. STAHP IT YOU’RE KILLING ME. He is overcome with guilt by his feelings for
Jane due to his obligation to Abigail and doesn’t want to hurt either
lady. DEAD I AM DEAD YOU DEADED ME. It’s only when Jane effectively ends her
“relationship” with Orville, and when Abigail runs away from the show and Joe
(oh sorry, spoilers? Eh, I don’t care,
the movie is 65 years old) that Joe finally feels alright with making a move on
Jane. I adore a man with principle and
holy crap, but Joe has principle.

Okay, so I have an undying
obsession with Gene Kelly.But believe
it or not, he’s not the only reason to watch this movie (if you like
musicals.Because if you don’t like
musicals, just give the whole thing a pass).

Oh dear lord the chest hair.

Judy Garland.

Yes, I love Gene Kelly, but I
also love Judy Garland.And not the Judy
from The
Wizard of Oz (which, ironically, is probably my least favorite Garland
flick).No, I love the Judy Garland from
other movie musicals, the one who was allowed to be an adult and allowed to
have breasts and play the breathy, shaky female lead love interest.Judy Garland had such irrefutable star
quality.I once read a quote that said
that she was the only dancing partner Gene Kelly ever had who drew your eyes to
her more than to him (debatable, given my obsession with Kelly, but I get the
gist of the argument and it’s a valid point).In Summer Stock, Garland is just as luminous as always.And yes, although she was going through
personal hell off screen during the filming, it doesn’t show on the
screen.She is so pretty, so gorgeous,
so loveable, I just want to take her and cuddle her and tell her it will be
alright.I could get lost in those big,
beautiful brown eyes.

And shut up about pairing Judy
with Gene.Take a male actor I am
desperately in love with and put him up against a female actress who brims with
gorgeous geniality, and I’m a goner.The
internet even informs me that there’s a name for the pair of Judy Garland and
Gene Kelly: Jugenea.Apparently.Well, whatever the name is, Judy is easily my
favorite pairing for Gene Kelly, probably because she has such inherent star
quality in her to provide a suitable pairing to his RIDICULOUS SEXINESS.

The dancing is top-notch, but I
wouldn’t expect any less from a Gene Kelly musical.His first number, Dig for Your Dinner, is a
Kelly solo, and god bless for that.His
dancing duet with Judy, Portland Fancy, at the local dance, is so ridiculously
cute and sweet you’ll get tooth decay.But the two show stoppers are later solo numbers.The first is the obvious Get Happy, Garland’s
defining moment in more ways than one, where Jane finally embraces her interest
in the stage and performs in the production with all the gusto that we expect
from Judy.Judy Garland has never been
sexier than she is in that number, wearing a smart costume of suit jacket and
little else, letting her legs stretch on forever.If Summer Stock is remembered for
nothing else, it will be that number, and rightfully so.It’s iconic.The other show stopper is Kelly’s later solo, You, Beautiful You, a
gorgeous empty-stage piece where Joe just can’t help but dance about his
feeling after having first kissed Jane.Kelly choreographed the piece and it shows the brilliance that was to
come a few years later in Singin’ in the Rain.Kelly needs only a creaky floorboard and a
few sheets of newspaper to make an utterly beguiling dance number, one that
even Steve at 1001plus likes!Seriously,
if you like musicals, Summer Stock delivers on the musical
number side.

And that’s just Gene and
Judy.Phil Silvers and especially Eddie
Bracken are such superb comic relief in this film.Eddie Bracken steals nearly every scene he’s
in as Jane’s practical fiancé who is allergic to pretty much everything under
the sun.Phil Silvers is as goofy as
always (if truth be told, more obnoxious than goofy), but I love him because he
brings out Gene Kelly’s goofy side.One
of my favorite things about Gene Kelly is that he was never afraid to let
himself look like a fool, and every time he’s paired with Phil Silvers, you
know they’ll have at least one utterly ridiculous song together.In fact, every time I get too wrapped up in
my Gene Kelly fixation, my husband likes to show me a picture from Summer
Stock of one of his duets with Phil Silvers to knock him off his sexy
pedestal just a bit.

Nope, still sexy.

If I may go off on a tangent
(like I haven’t already), I showed this film to my good friend Angie (who
shares my Gene Kelly obsession) and naturally, she immediately fell in
love.Like I said, if you love Gene
Kelly, you need this movie.Regardless,
there is one scene where Eddie Bracken and Phil Silvers, both of whom wear
glasses, bump into one another, knock off each other’s glasses, then put the
wrong glasses on.Angie, in all her
fangirl awesomeness, immediately started talking about shipping them
together.And now that’s all I can
think.I love to imagine that Orville
and Herb run off together and have very nebbish gay sex together at the end of
this movie.Thanks, Angie.You did this to me.

Is this one of the best movies
ever made?No.Is it one of my favorite movies? Yes.Do
I recognize its shortcomings?Yes,
empirically I recognize that this is not Citizen Kane.Do I care about its shortcomings?Hell no.Will this movie always make me happy regardless of my mood?YES.

Arbitrary Rating: I’m giving
this a very personal 10/10. It has
flaws, for sure, but my love of it overrides the flaws. Gene Kelly, get in my pants.